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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29557221">Up in flames</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Assassin's Creed - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Gen, Nightmares, OOC, Post-Canon, Pyrophobia, Was gonna be a Drabble but turned out different</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:01:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,648</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29557221</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor is scared of fire. And for good reason.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Haytham Kenway &amp; Ratonhnhaké:ton | Connor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Up in flames</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You can’t really blame him for being afraid of fire. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Well, no. That sounded a bit harsh, he wasn’t “afraid” of it he just... froze up around fire. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Well... maybe he </span>
  <span class="s2">was</span>
  <span class="s1"> afraid of fire. But you can’t blame him can you? Seeing your home being burned to the ground with your mother inside it at the age of 10 was something that nobody should ever have to go through. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Things like that left scars, mentally and physically. From time to time Connor looks at his hands and can see a faint scar from a large wood piece that scraped him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He got it when he tried to lift the tree off his mother, chipping off a piece of the bark and having it dig into his hand. It was an unpleasant reminder to say the least. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But dwelling on such thoughts from the past wasn’t productive, all Connor could do now is worry about the present and the future. More importantly what he’s going to do about his father when their truce is over. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He remembers their unpleasant first - well, they’ve met before but have never interacted - meeting at the abandoned church. Ironically so, he was searching for Benjamin Church. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Though he’d never admit it out loud Connor was kind of glad he could be working with his father. Yeah he disliked him, he was a stubborn old man who killed without warning. Reckless, even. But deep down Connor was lucky to be in contact with his father. Maybe... if he was lucky he could ask more about his mother. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Currently though they were in the woods with a temporary camp for the night. Fire crackled on their kindling of wood which Haytham collected while Connor had gotten them food to fill their bellies for the night. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He got two rabbits which was better than he expected, they weren’t too deep in the woods, and it seemed empty sort of. Barely any owls or nocturnal birds out. A few bugs but that was it. He didn’t care though, as long as he got </span>
  <span class="s2">something</span>
  <span class="s1"> to eat Connor was fine.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When they were done eating they sat in silence, at first Connor didn’t know what to do with himself. He wasn’t tired enough just yet to go to sleep, and he couldn’t say he trusted Haytham completely to fall asleep. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He started out by cleaning his tomahawk and blades, trying to preoccupy himself with something. He could feel the warmth of the fire close to his face, making him feel uneasy while smelling the smoke. The fires warmth was almost overwhelming, he struggled to keep his composure, shivering a bit. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Are you alright, Connor?” Haytham asked, inquisitively. A brow quirked up. Connor shook his head lightly and nodded.“I am fine, father.” “Are you sure? You don’t seem so.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Why was he so concerned? “Yes.” Connor replied quietly, going back to his task. He heard shuffling and looked over to his side to see Haytham looking behind them. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What is it?” “Nothing. I just thought I heard something.” Connor could see a book in one of Haytham’s hands, he couldn’t quite make out the words on it but didn’t care. If his father was reading it it probably was a stupid book anyways. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The heat of the flames seemed to be too much for Connor, his face sweating. Quietly he shrugged off his hood, feeling the cool night air on his face, a refreshing change. Though the fire was still affecting him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He folded up his hood neatly and placed it down next to his feet. He went back to cleaning the last of his knives, making sure they were all still sharp. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When he was done with his task though he found himself with nothing to do again, so he stared. Into the sky, the dirt, ahead of him, and... their fire. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He thinks about it. How his whole body was hot and he felt like death when he was engulfed in those flames, like an invisible pressure pushing against his every limb in all different directions. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was so lost in thought he didn’t notice how the fire cackled higher and a flame snagged his hood. He didn’t notice until Haytham made a choked yelp.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When Connor saw the small flame on his hood he froze, he couldn’t move. His mind telling him to run, to put the fire out, to put out his hood. So many voices and yet he couldn’t move. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What are you doing? Put it out!” He barely registered Haytham’s yells until the man himself put out his hood. Black patches covering the beautiful white color. He knew the fire was put out, he could move now, but despite the fire in front of him he felt unbelievably cold. Trembling lightly, hoping it wasn’t noticeable. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Whether Haytham noticed or not he didn’t comment on it “Christ Connor!” Muttering curses and obscenities under his breath. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">~</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Accidents always happen. Whether they happen on missions or during your regular life. This mistake though ended in disaster. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The warehouse job had, in Connor’s opinion, gone to shit the minute that Church turned around only to realize it </span>
  <em>
    <span class="s2">wasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span class="s1"> Church. They had been fooled.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Things escalated quickly, he couldn’t remember much but he knew someone shot something and now the whole building was collapsing and going up in flames. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Up in flames. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>
    <span class="s2">Up in flames. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Connor was frozen in place again. Haytham could see his body being wracked with shivers and little titters as he stared into the fires, a look of fear on his face. His breathing was erratic. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Shit. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Connor was scared of fire. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His son was scared of fire, how didn’t he realize sooner? What happened at their campsite makes more sense now. At the time he could sense the boy’s uneasiness and thought it was because of him. But no, it was because of the fire. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Haytham didn’t have the time for this though, not now, not when they’re about to die. He grabs Connor’s wrist pulling on it “Come on!” He can hear him mumble something about “Ista”. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He tugs harder and the boy stumbles on his feet, body still shaky. He can tell he’s not out of it yet but as long as he can move it’ll do. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Keeping a firm grip on Connor’s wrist he leads him through the collapsing warehouse, careful of the flames and falling floorboards. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Haytham can see a hole in the wall leading to the outside, they’re gonna have to jump. He can’t tell what’ll be below them if they do but they don’t have the time to spare to ask that. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Grabbing onto Connor, he leaps out of the warehouse, making sure his son doesn’t slip out of his hands. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Water, oh thank the gods. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He resurfaces and takes in a deep gulp of air, using his free arm to lead them to the ground. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Connor is heavy, but limp against his body. He heaves Connor up onto the stone and drops him, clothes smacking the stone with a wet plop. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Christ, what was Achilles feeding his boy? He took heavy breaths and could see Connor slowly regain conscious thinking. Getting up with a groan. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mind telling me what that was? Why you froze up in there?” He snarled. “I.. I...” Connor stuttered, he wanted to say more but kept his mouth shut. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dammit, he’ll just have to ask later. Instead he’ll be lucky he’s alive now. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">~</span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They had set up another camp in the woods again. They had planned on going to the Piers tomorrow and end Church. For now though they’ll just sleep.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This time though Haytham made sure to keep the fire away from Connor. He told himself it’s so his robes don’t go in flames like his hood did the other night.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Connor had been exhausted the entire journey their for camp. Falling asleep the minute he made contact with his bedroll.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Maybe he should go to sleep too. He can ask Connor any questions in the morning. Haytham lays out his bedroll and slowly falls asleep.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His rest didn’t last for long though, he awakes with a slight grumble and gasp. He could hear yelling and crying. What on earth was happening? Was someone hurt?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Now more alert and awake Haytham rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and looked around, he could see that the fire died down long ago and was just a pile of ash and embers.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ista! Ista!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His head snapped up to the noise, he was shocked to see that it was Connor. He was having a nightmare.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was shouting something in his native language, something Haytham barely knew any words of.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He went over to Connor and looked at him. He was distressed, thrashing around, tear streaks on his cheeks. He didn’t want to see that look on his son’s face.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He shook Connor’s shoulder “Get up!” Haytham hissed. The boy awoke with a gasp, taking in deep and erratic breaths. “Ista...”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Are you alright, Connor?” Haytham asked, hand on Connor’s shoulder. “I... I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t save Ista.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Haytham didn’t know what Ista meant but he began putting two and two together. “It was a nightmare, you’ll be fine.” He tried to assure, feeling his son tremble under his hand.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Haytham wasn’t a touchy person, neither was Connor. But he could tell the boy needed a hug. He reached out with his other hand, noticing the other flinch, and wrapped it around his back.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He rubbed deep relaxing circles along Connor’s back hoping to calm him down. Shushing him calmly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">At first Connor’s body was stiff, but as he slowly realized what had happened he started shaking again. Grabbing Haytham and silently crying into his father’s chest. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’ll be fine.” He tried to assure, hearing that stuttering breaths and shaky but silent cries from Connor. Ushering him back to sleep. </span>
</p>
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